


What If

by General_Button



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mood Swings, Mpreg, OOC Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Button/pseuds/General_Button
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John hadn’t known he was an omega? Where would they be now? The question was slightly distressing for Sherlock to think about. Which obviously made him think about it all the more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perlockholmes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=perlockholmes).



Sherlock’s fingers drummed against the fabric arms of the loveseat in which he was sat. The television was whirling with its usual drivel and mindless litanies of words and phrases that were meant to appease the general public and give rise to raucous laughter.

Sherlock wanted no part of it; he turned his head away. 

John was in the kitchen, puttering about and making him tea. Usually he would politely request that Sherlock “make his own damn tea”, but as of late he had been rather incapacitated.

He ran his palm down the smooth swell of his stomach. Sherlock, omega extraordinaire, was eight months heavy with John’s child. The pregnancy was winding to a close, for which both Sherlock and John were grateful.  The early weeks had not been the most pleasant – mostly attributing to Sherlock’s mood swings (intense bouts of anger, snapping at the smallest things) and his morning sickness (just horrible all around).

About midway things had calmed and Sherlock’s moodiness had transformed into clinginess. He wouldn’t let John leave the house, whining when he had to go to work – pleading that he stay and ignore his stupid, idiotic patients and make him something esculent. John still left for work, much to Sherlock’s annoyance, but he always seemed particularly eager to get home, which made Sherlock purr whenever he thought about it after they’d settled down after a long – quite literally. 

 _The omegan purr is God’s worst invention_ , he thought to himself, eyes slipping towards John. _John wouldn’t have even known I was an omega if I hadn’t fucking_ purred.

Only omegas could purr. It was the most annoying thing on the planet, and unable to be faked (if so, badly). It was a reflex – one thatSherlock could usually swallow down.

Though all things considered, that was a good thing. 

What if John hadn’t known he was an omega? Where would they be now? The question was slightly distressing for Sherlock to think about. Which obviously made him think about it all the more.

What if he’d revealed his nature in the first place and John hadn’t wanted to look at him? He was inclined towards Beta woman and men, a much safer bet, and would never allow an omega and an alpha to room together. What would their fates be if his answer had been “nah, no thanks” when Sherlock said he was moving in?

Complete, irrational sorrow filled Sherlock. His lower lip trembled at the very _thought_ of John not being in his life. Imagine if he had merely gone on his own way, and his building depression (it had been so obvious) had ended his _life_ without Sherlock there to stop him. Imagining John dead made Sherlock’s heart ache and shiver, his eyes blurring with tears.

_What if John dies at the surgery. What if he gets hurt by someone because of me? I’m going to kill John it’s all my fault he can’t leave me—_

A soft sob interrupted his thoughts and Sherlock realized it was his own. His shoulders were hunched and shaking slightly as tears rolled down his cheeks. He faced twisted with the effort not to cry, but it was useless: the tears came, inevitably as it was that John would notice what was happening.

When John did notice, he thought his heart was going to stop.

Innocently making tea, he had turned around when he heard a strange sound and all but dropped the cup in shock. He had never, in their entire time together, seen Sherlock Holmes _cry._

“Oh my God, Sherlock. Are you okay? Sherlock!” He set the tea down and ran to his mate’s side, who was sobbing into his hands, obviously, desperately trying not alert him. “Sherlock, what’s wrong?” he said softly, trying to move his hands. Sherlock jerked away and turned his head before shaking it. John’s brow knitted with worry, concern radiating from him. “Honey, talk to me. Please?”

He finally succeeded in removing Sherlock’s hands, revealing a sorry face, indeed. Sherlock’s eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were wet with tears; somet that continued to trail down his chin and drip onto his belly.  “What’s got you all worked up? I’ve never seen you like this.” His thumb gently brushed away a few tears that slipped free.

Sherlock sniffled.

“Nothing,” he snapped, then abruptly lost all energy. “I…I was just thinking about how we met. And what if I hadn’t met you and then I was thinking about if-if you _died_ ,” here his eyes grew wet again, “and how I would have caused your death. They always come after me, John. They’ll know about you and our family and my enemies will kill you—“ he broke off and blinked away a fresh round of tears.

“Oh, Sherlock.” John straightened and then sat next to Sherlock, pulling him close by his shoulders. “No one’s going to hurt me. Or you.” He wanted to say ‘or our baby’, but he wasn’t sure if that would make this obvious mood swing worse. He’d seen other pregnant men and women cry over less. “And if anyone is, I’ve got my gun. And your brother has his voyeurism thing.”

Sherlock huffed a laugh at that, leaning more firmly against his alpha. “Mycroft has a complex. He knows too much of what’s going on in our lives.”

“There, see?”

They sat there for a while, the silence only interrupted by the telly and Sherlock’s sniffles. Gingerly he wiped at his face using John’s shirt, unconcerned that he got a good bit of snot all over it. “Lovely,” said John, inspecting the damage.

“I love you,” Sherlock replied quietly.

Said omega was studiously looking down now. It wasn’t unusual for him to say it, but he didn’t spout it freely; usually during moments of inspiration or sex. Like this, it was more intimate.

John kissed his temple, and then his mouth for good measure. “Love you, too, you git. How ‘bout that tea?”

Sherlock nodded and took John’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm freaking out over my ao3 auction thing and I just needed to take a break and write Sherlock crying. Figured this could count as Perlies birthday present, too! :P


End file.
